Colors of Kormok, The
She had only meant to come meditate over the moon’s shimmering reflection on the quiet surface of the lake. Never had she intended to intrude on anyone’s soulful time. Miacoda paused in her tracks, still unseen, and slipped further into the shadows in hopes he would not sense her presence. Feeling a slight guilt for watching in secret, she could not pull herself away. The creature’s bowed head was containing all his color inside. Then as she watched, he reared his head up towards the sky and let his colors out into the air explosively. It was almost a full release, but not quite. Something was still held back. She recognized him then as the one called Kormok, from the clan gathering she had attended. The colors she saw emanating were vivid yet intermingled and revolving. They were a kaleidoscope of ever changing energy. The effect was something akin to direct sunlight hitting a prism and splitting the rays of color in a spinning fashion upward. What fascinated her most was the layered effect of the colors - like a glazed paint technique, his colors had taken time to build and tint the subsequent hues, each layer affecting and molding the resulting pigment ever so slightly. The separate colors were too numerous to identify, but a few stood out prevalently. There was a thread of rust color weaving through the rest in contrast. It was indicative of restraint, almost an expectation of pain. Miacoda sensed a great gloominess from loss of love, twofold. It had left him grounded in the sense he would likely never fly off the dirt in piercing and complete joy. This gave her great sadness to see him stifling the extremes in preservation. She understood it but it still made her sad for him. If she had been a mother and he her child, her heart would weep for his tempered limitations. Another color which stood out was a deep magenta. This one was velvety in hue, very rich, and emitted the kind of regality that only the truly humble achieve. He exuded this color predominantly at the clan meeting, she had noticed, where his words were followed with all due respect and comprehension. Along these same lines, she also could not help but notice the chartreuse. The startling brightness of this green was indicative of an occasional need to meander off alone, to rejuvenate his soul as he was doing here tonight by the lake. In his position of leadership, she marveled that his attendance to the clan was punctuated with wandering absences as such. It was testament not only to the nature of his character, but also to the clan as a whole for not needing him constantly hovering. This spoke volumes to her about the strength underlying the collective members of the clan and how solid they must be to have achieved such community. Miacoda’s heart softened when she witnessed the sparkling embers of light blue. Its transparency gave a soft fluffy look much like a glimmering snowflake. Making her smile, she saw hints of a new blossoming of tenderness towards a confidante and companion, one he both respected and felt drawn to protect. Miacoda tore her gaze away, turning to allow him some privacy and began to walk away quietly. Glancing back over her shoulder, she was startled to find him watching her. She froze and blinked, wondering when he became aware of her. His colors were not streaming overhead anymore, but remained somewhat faded and more centered. His rejuvenation was near complete. “Come, young one. You seek something here this evening.” Miacoda flushed at having been caught, and pulled all her interpretations of his colors deep inside her so he would not feel so exposed. She slowly approached and he motioned for her to sit as he was on the bank overlooking the lake. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help,” he told her. “You cannot be shy with us. We work together often and not always as individuals. It helps us grow stronger for the impending dangers that lie ahead.” She nodded thoughtfully before answering in a slow drawl, “Not needin’ much, really. Time is my friend, yah know.” She paused and lifted her face skyward. “I can find most things by being patient enough ta let them come to me.” He looked into her and saw something he needed to address, the teacher in him rising to the surface. Nodding his head in the affirmative, he spoke quietly but with conviction and some amount of self-amusement. “I have a story for you, then.” His low voice was tinged with wisdom he did not even know he showed. “Once in training long ago, I was privy to attend an arena for sparring, an event to help instruct in battle. My partner was older than I was, but I was larger.” He glanced to her then, his eyes dancing. “I am not a patient orc.” She grinned at him, listening attentively and returned her gaze to the lake surface, resting her chin on her arms as they lay over her knees. “I charged right in, ready to defeat my opponent, ready for action. For several rounds of this I was brought to my knees.” He glanced to be sure she was following so far. She lowered her eyes and smiled, her tail swaying in the peaceful mode of sharing, imagining him in his youth as both eager and intense. “Winded, I would roll over my actions in my mind, set my strategy and charge in again, entirely enthused. Finally my partner suggested I try some patience and let the battle come to me. Conserve my energies, so to speak.” He continued, “Well, I tried that theory out.” Here he paused and waited for the response he knew he would get. “How’d that work out for yah?” she queried. “It didn’t. I reiterate - I’m not a patient male and that’s not bloody likely to change.” His laughter rang out pure and strong in the night air. She grinned and waited for more. His voice became somber and direct, speaking straight into her now. “I learned to observe, watch and assess. If I held back some, I could see weakness and focus my efforts on wearing that thin to my advantage. I learned a balance within me, one of both preservation and awareness.” A slight pause emphasized his next words to her. “Preservation is fine, so long as you don’t cheat your awareness.” She held her breath as he said this, hearing the colors of his words infusing her with meaning. She was a simple tauren, and one accustomed to surviving and accommodating alone. It seemed he was telling her it was ok to rely on others. Kormok was direct enough in his story, providing a clear message for her to heed. He delivered it with the stature of a leader who drew from the strength of community, and she could see this was a clear advantage. Miacoda knew this was true and instinctively was drawn towards this very concept, her fears of the future pressing ever closer. With her Uncle Tate at rest now, she’d have to forge her way into the future somehow. As he got up to leave, she rose and bowed to him with gratitude. She started to assert once again that she did not need much. Instead, she pulled the hard words out and spoke them aloud to try to convince herself she could, “I do appreciate your story. I will try ta ask if I ever need help.” He smiled with her then, seeing she had heard him well, and strode off into the darkness.